


Losing Yourself (And Kicking Some Serious Ass)

by Haospart



Series: Adventures of a Darkside Jedi (and other AU extracts, not part of My Personal Canon) [1]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Dark Side Jedi, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Like, Mirialans (Star Wars), Whump, and you don't want spoilers, bitch boy ugly cries and loses his shit, darkside jedi, don't, fuckin SPOILERY spoilers, if you ain't finished alderaan, it's pure whump, kira doesn't die don't worry, not a single piece of fluff in here, she's safe, spoilers for end of chapter 1, the final boss-battle of chapter one, this ain't the place for you, this is the aftermath of chapter 1 end basically, ugly crying, vengeance, whumpy whumpy whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2020-10-24 12:28:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20706005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haospart/pseuds/Haospart
Summary: Djyad Mourra, already an aggressive, angry Jedi, loses someone important, and loses himself as a result.He takes his vengeance.Tl;dr, bitch boy ugly cries and loses his shit.





	Losing Yourself (And Kicking Some Serious Ass)

**Author's Note:**

> I'mma be real here I haven't even *seen* the alderaan shit for jedi knight in like, 3 months I haven't got a damn clue if it's accurate or not.

For a moment there was only the steady hum of the lightsaber over the holo, and the sound of his blood rushing in his ears, drowning out everything except for that damned droning. For a moment, it blocked out everything, Djyad didn't even feel the impact as he dropped to his knees before the holoterminal. Darth Angral was saying something, and so was the little weasel hiding in the shadows. Taunting and teasing him.

They didn't matter though, nothing mattered beyond the fried, gaping hole in Master Orgus' chest. The only real things in the universe, the lifeless, vacant eyes of Orgus and the infernal shrieking of the lightsaber that wouldn't shut up shut up shut up. The sound was supposed to mean safety, and power, and surety but the lightsaber drowned out everything with wrongness, and fear, and anguish.

Jedi trained to handle their emotions, right from the start they learned how to reign in all the pesky passion and violent emotions that made the dark side so dangerous.

Djyad was never a good Jedi. Too prone to frustration and impatience to please any Master. He was proud, hasty, easily tossed this way and that by his emotions. The white-haired mirialan came off as cruel more often than not, and nearly every Master he had come across had given a worried side eye to him as he passed by after imparting some 'control yourself' wisdom. 

Hell, even one of Darth Angral's lackeys had proclaimed him, "Too full of passion for a Jedi."

Djyad Mourra was never a good Jedi, and with the shock wearing off into a simmering, bubbling fury, he abandoned what little reign of his impulses he had and lunged to his feet. He stood, drew his lightsaber and turned to squarely face the weasel of a Sith in the room. With tears streaming unhindered down his face, he shrieked a wordless scream, and threw himself at the Sith. 

Djyad's combat skill, unlike his emotional handle of himself, was second to none. Even while forced to be evasive, with the Death Mark as it was, instead of his usual brutal full-frontal assault method he was devastatingly effective. He had used fury and pain to fuel himself before, and this time he used it to throw extra weight and force into his blows. Everything he threw at the Sith was done with the entirety of his being, without the restraint a good Jedi would have.

His vision blurred with tears, and he could taste the salt on his lips as clearly as the blood. His sight didn't matter, not against a foe that could cloak himself from view. His throat eventually closed too, leaving him to grit his teeth and snarl against the burning pain in his neck from the abused vocal cords. 

Kira was… somewhere. Administering force healing and kolto by the fact that Djyad was not bleeding out on the floor, or limping too heavily. Good, that meant he could keep throwing everything he had at the Sith.

Slice, slash, smash, stab, slice, slash, smash, stab, slice, slash, smash, stab, stab, stab, stab, stab.

Suddenly Djyad was no longer standing over his foe, his lightsaber was thrown to the side, and he was guided gently to the floor by soft hands, delicately directing him to a kneeling position a ways away from the now mangled corpse of the Sith. He shook, hiccuping, jolting, and breaking down into full sobbing. He curled forward in on himself, held himself wherever he could and scrabbled for the semblance of comfort from himself.

Strong arms came from behind, nearly encompassing his chest and pulling him back into a warm, solid embrace. He let it happen, still curled tight into himself as the tears and snot ran in disgusting rivulets down his face. The discovery that he was an ugly crier wasn’t as irritating as it might have been were he not caught in the swirling maelstrom of his own emotions. Whichever way he turned his mind to, there was the image of his Master staring glassy-eyed at nothing through the holo. The image was burned into his mind, and every flash of it brought a new, more violent emotion with it.

Anguish, despair, fury, hate, and a deep, unending sadness twisted inside him, his tears trying to purge them but only giving him leave to focus on the ugly darkness that had been festering inside even before Angral had executed his teacher. It gathered and ached in the pit of his stomach, grief blending with his anxieties and the scream that still wanted to escape, they left a sour, burning taste in his mouth. His throat burned as well, and when he opened his mouth to say something, the burning amplified while only a hoarse croak escaped.

"Hey, hey, take it easy-" Kira's voice was low, safe, and calm. The buzzing and twisting abated slightly at the sound, and Djyad clung to the relief it gave. He twisted in her arms, clutching at her and reaching for her.

He spent his tears in her arms. The dark, swirling part of him calmed slightly at her soothing, but it picked at him from the inside. He was never a good Jedi, and as he opened his sulphurous, burning yellow eyes, he resigned himself to never being a good Jedi. It wasn't possible, not while he cared about Kira, and not while he fed the darkness inside him with his impatient, furious nature.

But at least Orgus' body was fading, from his mind, from his sight.

He never even thought to wonder that the Death Mark didn't fire at him again.


End file.
